


Fork in the Road

by reigningqueenofwords



Series: Last Chance [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reigningqueenofwords/pseuds/reigningqueenofwords
Relationships: dean x reader - Relationship
Series: Last Chance [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413214
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Fork in the Road

Months passed, seasons shifted, and so did Dean. Some days you weren’t sure how to even act because you never knew what mood he was in. He was so all over lately. You’d mentioned it, but it really didn’t accomplish much.

If his mood was sour after a hunt, you understood. However, him getting snippy with you wasn’t fair. You’d barely speak to him on those days, keeping yourself occupied. That way, he could pout in peace, and you wouldn’t be hurt because he got annoyed.

When summer came along, both kids were out of school. They’d reached the rivalry stage, and would go from playing nicely, to fighting like cats and dogs. Dean had left on a hunt the day before school let out for the summer. Then, cases had been back to back. It had been almost a month of no Dean, and you were at your breaking point. All you wanted was one evening to lock yourself away from them arguing, yelling, screaming, or getting into trouble.

A couple times he’d Skype’d them purely to talk to them about it, and that would help for about an hour. Until one kid took the car the other wanted. Then it was right back to it.

One night mid-July, you texted him. They had been at it since the second they woke up- at 4 that morning. Not once did they stop bickering. Not even food helped.

_Babe? Are you busy? Can I call you?_

**_What’s up?_ **

_I’m stressed out. The kids are wearing me thin. I need some kind of break. Please?_

_**Babe, they’re kids. Can’t be that bad. Lol** _

_Are you kidding me?! You’ve been gone nearly a month. That’s a month of parenting these two alone. A month of fighting over fucking cars, and who gets the goddamn red plate._

**_I think it’s you that needs to chill._ **

_…I’m not even sure how to reply to that…_

_**Just calm down. You’re getting too worked up. This case should be over soon. Just breathe.** _

_Night._

**_Oh, come on!_ **

_No, go. Enjoy fucking around at a bar with Sammy._

**_Not fair. I enjoy a beer or two at night. So what? It’s relaxing, and it’s what we do. Not like I’m not stressed over here._ **

_Not even close to the same, Dean. You can shut out for the night. I can’t._

With that, you put your phone on silent and rubbed your temples. How the hell could he try to turn this around on you? You didn’t want to argue with him anymore. Lying down, you let out a sigh to try to get some sleep. Just as your eyes shut, your daughter woke up. “MOMMY!” She called out, thus waking up your son.

“Fucking great.” You groaned, getting out of bed.

* * *

Dean walked in the door two weeks later, looking relaxed, and perfectly happy. You shot him a look when the kids went from fighting to happy little people the second they saw him. “There’s my kiddos!” He chuckled. “Mommy said you two were brats while I was gone. That true?” He raised his eyebrows at them.

“No.” Your son shrugged, making you roll your eyes. “Maybe Sissy was, but I wasn’t.” He said simply.

Your daughter looked at him, offended. “I was not! You were mean!” And, just like that, they were back to fighting.

They took off, back towards her room where they’d been playing earlier and Dean laughed. “See? Kids.” He smiled at you. “Missed you.” Dean told you before kissing your cheek.

As glad as you were to have him home, you kinda wanted to whack him with something. He never seemed to see things with the kids the way you did, because he wasn’t there 24/7.

* * *

That’s how it went. You being pushed to the limit every time he was gone, and him making it out that you were over reacting. Once he suggested that you might need therapy, or medication. That had killed you. He was so in denial that the kids were pure hell when he wasn’t there, that he honestly made it out that you were crazy.

You couldn’t even enjoy your time with him anymore. Between him thinking it was kids being kids, barely touching you, and being off so much, you felt isolated. You couldn’t even open up to someone, because of what Dean did. It would be hard to keep up such a lie for any extended period of time.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. It seemed like you were getting hit from all angles. You just couldn’t catch a damn break. And, you were so stressed that you couldn’t sleep well. You’d have nightmares, or would dream up stuff from your childhood you didn’t want to think about.

Dean had just drove off when you heard the kids fighting, and then your daughter crying. You hung your head and sighed. Just as expected, she came out, looking upset. “He won’t let me play with the cool car!” She sobbed.

“Oh, God!” You groaned. “There’s like 50 damn Hotwheels. Does it have to be that one car?” Your eyes were silently begging her to just play with a different one. “Ugh. Fine. Come on.” Getting up, you led her back to your son’s room. “Can you take turns with the car? Let her play with it for a little, and then switch?”

He shook his head, clutching the car. “But it’s my favorite car ever!” He defended his choice.

Closing your eyes, you licked your lips. “Who wants to see Uncle Sammy?” You asked, successfully changing the subject. You hated it, but you just needed to get the hell away from your kids. You loved them, but you were not loving motherhood.

Both kids were jumping up and down excited. A mix of ‘me’s’, and ‘I do! I do!’s could be heard.

“Let me call and see if he can take you. Okay?” Rarely did you ask that of him. He had his own life, and you felt guilty for wanting him to take care of your kids for a bit.

* * *

Sam walked out of the bunker and grinned as the kids slipped out of the car. “Hey, munchkins!” He chuckled, each of them colliding with one of his legs. “Missed you, too.”

“Thank you so much.” You told him, handing him a bag with a change of clothes for them.

He shook his head. “No problem. I love when they come visit.” Sam told you, ruffling their hair.

You looked down at them, giving them a small smile. “Alright. Hugs.” You opened your arms. “You two be good for Uncle Sammy.” That went without saying. He always had the best things to say about them when he dropped them off. It was like they saved their angelic behavior for the bunker only.

“Bye, mom!” They grinned, giving you a quick hug and then returning to Sam.

* * *

Sam was on the floor with the kids when his phone started ringing, making him call timeout in their assault. “Dean?” He furrowed his brows, wondering why Dean was calling him.

“You heard from Y/N? I had to run to the next town over for something for dinner, and she’s not answering.” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“She probably turned her phone off. She was pretty stressed when she dropped the kids off.” Sam told him, laughing when they started pretending to fly. “I’m sure she wanted a nap, or just some peace.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll just pick one of these.”

“What are you trying to pick?”

“I can’t remember if she liked the angus burgers better, or the other ones.” He muttered.

Sam stayed silent for a moment. “Angus, Dean. She likes the angus. Same with hot dogs.” How Dean could have been with you for so long, and not remember something so simple was beyond him. “I gotta go. They found the sharpies…. No! Do not draw a mustache on your sister!” Sam called out, rushing to where the kids were.

* * *

Despite no longer needing to ask you what you preferred, Dean continued to call you. Every time it rang until he got voice mail. He’d left one the first time, but not after that. By the time he was twenty minutes from home, he gave up. He’d just talk to you when he got there.

Walking in the front door, he kicked it shut, bags in hand. “Babe?” He called out as he moved to the kitchen. Receiving no answer, he set everything down and moved through the house, to your room. Peeking in, he smiled softly when he saw you laying in bed. He gently shut the door and went back to putting everything away.

He went about his afternoon as he planned to- prepping dinner, pulling a dessert out to thaw, and relaxing. By the time dinner hit, he was wondering why you were napping so long. There was no way you were that tired.

Dean decided to wake you up before starting dinner, so you weren’t groggy trying to put toppings on your burger or something. He grabbed you a bottle of water and went back to your room. When he saw that you hadn’t moved, he found that odd. You moved a lot in your sleep, which usually resulted in the blankets being all over.

“Babe?” He sighed, moving closer. Seeing a piece of paper on your nightstand, he froze. From where he was, he could see your handwriting. “Fuck. No….” He rushed to your side, fearing the worst. His hand cupped your cheek, patting it, even though he knew it was pointless.

He broke, pulling you to his chest. Your arms remained at your sides, not moving. All he wanted was for them to wrap around him and hold him tight like they used to.

* * *

Sam had his feet up on the coffee table as him and the kids ate their pizza and watched a movie. They were sitting on the floor, paying more attention to the movie than their food, but he didn’t mind. They could snack on it later. Hearing Dean’s ringtone again, he sighed. Wiping his hands, he picked up the phone. “Dude, you should know what the hell she likes to eat by now.” He snapped.

“Sammy, she’s dead.” Dean broke, and Sam’s stomach dropped.


End file.
